


i can’t quit you baby

by heatherhearts



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26559427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherhearts/pseuds/heatherhearts
Summary: "You know we all hate you, right?"
Relationships: Axl Rose/Slash | Saul Hudson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	i can’t quit you baby

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, I made up the manager because i didn’t think Niven was really a fit for the role.

Heavenly. The one word to describe how Slash's lips felt against his porcelain skin. Axl would never admit how good it felt, how tasting Slash was like dancing on the edge of the milky way, how touching Slash was like feeling the stars. He wouldn't admit it, but God knew how much he needed it.

Slash pulled him closer, his aching back pressing against the door and the annoying nob of it digging into his lower back, earning a heavy hiss. Slash connected their lips again into a messy, sloppy kiss and all Axl could taste was whiskey and cigarettes. His hands were tangled in his wild curls as Slash's hands came to hold him by the waist, tongue slipping between his lips and into his mouth.

"Jump," Slash ordered and Axl lifted his legs, wrapping them tightly around Slash's torso as his hands held him up by his thighs. He leaned his head back against the wood as Slash's lips sucked, kissed, and abused his neck. He moaned and his eyes shot wide open when he felt Slash's hand palm him through his jeans.

"Wait, wait, Slash," he panted when Slash carried him to the bed, letting him fall on the pristine sheets. He pulled off his shirt, Axl's following soon behind. He peered at Axl from below and watching his face twist in utter ecstasy. He planted a soft kiss on the skin right on top of his navel and sent a set of shivers down the redhead's spine. "Wait, we can't - not here. This is Duff's room, his fuckin' bed."

"Don't care." Axl could feel his skin vibrating as Slash spoke, planting wet kisses over his stomach and chest, his skilled fingers gently playing with his right nipple. Axl's hands clasped around Slash's neck, accepting the kiss as he pulled him closer with his legs that were still wrapped around his waist. He needed to feel him, his mouth wasn't enough. "He probably won't sleep here anyways."

Slash grinded his erection against Axl's thigh and all of his worries about sleeping in Duff's bed disappeared at an instant. Slash bit his earlobe, fingers brushing over his nipple which earned him a quiet bur throaty moan, quickly muffled by Axl's hand. He was still embarrassed about the sounds Slash could get out of him without an effort.

"So pretty," he murmured under his breath more to himself than anybody else. He glanced down at Axl and he could trip over the edge only by looking at his flushed face and trembling body - he had never felt more in control. The rosy cheeks and eyes swirling with lust, Slash knew Axl was nothing but trouble. He connected their lips again, wanting to taste every inch of his mouth.

It had to be the third or fourth time he had gotten the taste but it always left him wanting more. Axl knew Slash was hooked, and even though he pretended not to care, no woman in the world could bring him the euphoria Slash offered. Slash couldn't believe his luck. There were five billion people in the world and he was the one to hold Axl.

Axl was breathing heavily, needy hands pulling Slash closer. He had to pull away from the heated kiss when Slash grinded their erections together, sending delicious sparks through his body. He stretched out his neck and let his head fall on the pillow, giving Slash the opportunity to get a good look at him. Spread out on Duff's bed, chest rising and falling at a rapid speed, eyes closed and pink lips parted, ready to be ruined.

He felt Slash everywhere. All over his body, touching whatever he pleased. Axl was his. He had given all of himself, poured half of his soul into Slash. Given him everything. Slash had done the same.

He whimpered against his palm when Slash's warm hands fidgeted with his belt, struggling to open it but eventually unleashing it and pulling his jeans down his thighs in a hurry, lips attached to Axl's jaw where slight ginger stubble was growing.

"Holy fuck, I need you," Slash whispered and Axl whined at the loss of contact when Slash pulled away to rip off his own pants, the leather clinging to his sweaty thighs and refusing to let go. He cursed and he moaned until he managed to slip the material down his legs - jumping on one leg, then on other, no underwear beneath. If Axl was in any other situation, he would have laughed at Slash's unfortunate but he was too aroused and impatient, turning and twisting between the sheets. He made it swiftly back on top of Axl. Heavy breathing, quiet moans, and groans, Slash knew no greater pleasure.

He balanced himself on his elbows, Axl trapped between his arms. He left a trail of soft kisses down his torso, starting from his throat until reaching his abdomen while slowly sliding down his boxers, tossing them on the floor. He took Axl's dick into a firm grip, giving him a few strokes and lighting the candle of hope that he would give head but disappointed the redhead when he came back up, sharing another sloppy kiss.

"Lube? Condom?" Axl breathed out, desperately grinding his erection against Slash's hipbone, trying to get any kind of friction. He threw his head back on the pillow as Slash loudly groaned, reaching out for his jacket on the floor to pull out a condom from the inner pocket. "Can you be any fucking slower?"

"Impatient, are we?" He teased and gave Axl's lips another light peck. Axl's heartbeat was in his ears, eyes foggy and unfocused, and Slash could sense his desperation. Slash held the condom between his fingers as his other hand's fingers slipped inside his mouth, sucking on them while giving Axl's dick light strokes, his own painful hardness forced against his thigh. "If it hurts-" Axl was already nodding.

With that, he pressed one finger against Axl's entrance, gently teasing him before pushing inside. Axl's body tensed for a second and he visibly shivered. He gulped, blinked, and Slash felt him relax before he added another finger. He was rubbing their bodies together, hiding his face in the crook of Axl's neck as the vocalist stared at the roof with wide eyes, twitching and groaning. He pushed Axl's legs further apart, rising to his knees while stretching and scissoring him.

His movements were lazy and it took self-control to not replace his fingers with his dick and senselessly fuck Axl into next week. Frankly, he didn't care if he hurt him or not. When it came to sex, he was like a wild animal, only out for himself. Axl didn't mind, he was already a mess and terrified of not lasting more than two minutes, he was walking on the edge.

"Slash, fuck." Slash pulled out his fingers and that was when Axl grabbed him by the shoulders and turned them around. Slash lied on his back, relaxing, as Axl straddled his thighs. His hands came to rest on Axl's waist and the redhead pulled the duvet over Slash's legs and over his bottom. Even though their skins were layered with sweat and it wasn't the first time this had occurred, Axl felt the need to cover up the things he was ashamed of.

He watched Slash put on the condom and not a second later he was lowering himself on Slash dick, feeling the head rub against his entrance before sliding inside. Slash groaned, guiding Axl by his waist as Axl pressed his palms firmly against his tanned chest, his red, fiery hair covering most of his features but Slash could see his abused lips gasp in air. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to distract himself from the pain and mentally thanked Slash for patiently waiting for him to adjust.

"Sorry." It was a weak mutter, barely audible and Slash wanted to tell him he had nothing to apologize for but he was afraid of ruining the moment, instead, his thumbs rubbed comforting circles on Axl's hipbones, encouraging him. Soon, Axl was moving again, lifting his hips up and down, proudly smiling when Slash hissed and threw his head back, lips parting and body twitching with pleasure.

Axl was moaning Slash's name over and over again along with curse words. He leaned his hands against Slash's chest, feeling Slash's fingernails dig into his skin as he moved his hips up and down on his length, the pain fading into pleasure. He quickened his speed, more names, and moans echoing in the hotel room. Groaning, hissing, scratching, biting, kissing - they were a big mess of sex.

"Fuck, Slash! Slash! Oh, God, so good!" Axl's voice aroused him even more. Merely two weeks ago, this had been a fantasy. Having Axl this close, all to himself sounded absurd. He was hypnotized. Sex was never a sentimental thing to him, but when it came to Axl, it became the edge of heaven. It felt like a dream, a parallel universe, a third dimension. It couldn't be reality.

"Oh, fucking hell."

The voice caught them by surprise. Axl visibly flinched and fell down on Slash's chest, the guitarist still buried deep inside of him and leaving him in a rather uncomfortable position. Slash pulled Axl off his dick by his waist and covered them both with the duvet, making sure Axl was disguised and worrying more about Axl's privacy than his own. His eyes snapped towards the doorway where Duff and their manager John Kohler, in a dazed shock - eyes wide, chins on the floor.

— ✧ —

Probably the worst part about the situation was John's serious, flat voice breaking the silence after a mere minute and only adding to the humiliation, "Boys, I'd like to switch a couple of words. Get dressed and be in my room in five." With a face of utter disappointment, he turned around after clearing his throat and walking out - Duff quickly following behind with wide eyes.

Slash sharply inhaled and rubbed his face in distress, lying flat on the bed and stealing secret glances in Axl's direction. The redhead sat in a lump, shoulders hung, and head in his hands. Slash opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it just as quickly. Some things were better left unsaid and he couldn't find any kind of words to lighten the unbearable tension.

Axl was most likely blaming him. He knew Axl well enough to be sure about it. Slash was the one who impatiently dragged Axl into Duff's room, instead of searching for his key card and using the room next to Duff's. He wouldn't hold it against Axl for blaming him, it was partly his fault.

" _Well, then_ ," he eventually shattered the silence with meaningless words. He sat up, feeling the soft carpet beneath his feet as he began collecting his clothes scattered around the room. Axl tensed when the weight of Slash's body lifted from the mattress and carefully glanced behind his back, watching Slash get dressed. "Think you should get dressed too. You heard what the man said. Better listen."

"Yeah," Axl murmured and covered his lower half with the duvet while looking for his boxers. John had such authority, even Axl listened to him and didn't runoff. John was great at his job. He managed them well, could get them all quiet with only an intense stare, and could get the band to act somewhat normal when he was around. Everyone respected John and he was the only man who could tame them all, even the short-tempered and unpredictable Axl Rose.

"Axl-" Slash hesitantly began, still putting the sentence together in his head but Axl cut him off before he could get it out.

"Don't. Don't say anything. Let's just fucking go."

Slash nodded and grabbed his leather jacket from the floor, pulling it over his bare skin as the pair made it out of the room. Axl walked out first, eyes glued to the floor while being too obvious to Slash's presence following behind, leaving good six feet between them. Axl thickly swallowed before knocking on John's door and Slash watched him try to cover his face with his hair.

The door slowly opened and john stared back, gaze piercing and face serious while staring at them. He didn't speak when he held the door open while gesturing for them to step inside. Axl was biting his lips, fidgeting with his fingers, and keeping his eyes on the creamy colored carpet. Slash appeared much calmer, but his insides were just as big of a storm as Axl's. John gestured for them to sit down on the bed as he stood by the window, masculine arms crossed over his chest.

The room was brightly lit. The walls were milky white and most decorations forest green. There was a dark wooden desk pushed against one of the walls and John leaned against it, hands firmly grabbing the edge while his eyes flashed disappointment. He was a big guy. He wouldn't be described as tall but he was big-boned, the navy button-up shirt bringing out his muscles and the golden ring on his left hand's finger glistening in the light. His arms and hands were covered with thick, gray hair, as well as the top of his head.

"I can't believe this," he began, rubbing his chin while hunching against the desk. "What were you two thinking?"

"John, man, listen. We're not fags-" Slash was cut off the second time in the span of five minutes.

"No, you don't have to explain anything to me. Your personal life doesn't really concern me. I don't care if you're homo or hetero or if you like trees, you don't have to explain it to me." Axl lifted his eyes for the first time since entering John's hotel room, letting them fall back down when meeting John's gaze. "Is this why two have been at each other's throats lately? I know you two fight a lot but lately, you've been fighting worse than usual."

Silence. It was easier to stay quiet than start debating on things they didn't know if they were on the same page about or not.

"You two dating?" The question hung heavy in the air for a moment as the two rockstars turned to each other. John's eyebrows rose as he waited for an answer, pursing his lips and Slash gave him a shrug of shoulders.

"Uh, no," Axl finally verbally responded and revealed more of his features when brushing his hair away from his face.

"What are you then? What do people call it? Friends with benefits?"

"Something like that."

"Like I said, I don't really care about your personal lives... unless it somehow affects the band, which now, of course, does. You're lucky that Duff had me with him, not a woman, or this could be all over the gossip magazines by the morning," he chuckled. "You didn't answer my question though? Is this why you've been fighting so much?"

"I guess, yeah. We've had a few disagreements here and there," Slash responded.

"I don't think I'd class them as 'a few disagreements'. Throwing meatballs and potatoes at each other and you, Axl, almost killing him with a bottle doesn't really sound like 'a few disagreements' but whatever works for you." John forced a fake smile on his face. "How long?"

"Since Philadelphia," came Axl's voice. "So, like two weeks or something."

"Only two weeks? It's fresh, then? You've been - uh, well, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about - for two weeks and you're already fighting like an old married couple. Literally about the color of a table cloth. Are you out of your minds? Thinking that you two could work and not ruin the band?"

"Eventually, we always make up," said Axl.

"In Duff's bed?" John snorted and earned a humorous smirk from Slash along with a quiet 'yeah'. "Well, this is out of my job assignments and unless you two wanna come out to the world, I shouldn't worry. Keep it low, yeah? No public affection, not a single mention in interviews. We'll have a longer conversation about what is too much to say in an interview but for now, bounce. I have other business to take care of. Did you see Duff anywhere?"

"No."

He didn't call them 'faggots' but both Slash and Axl knew he was thinking about it. John managed to keep his professionalism and Axl was thankful for that. The next moment, they were back in the hallway, standing there cluelessly. Axl was thinking about Duff and where he had gone, Slash was thinking about alcohol.

"It's your fault."

Slash had guessed right. Axl blamed him for their humiliation because Slash looked a little too comfortable with the situation. Slash was calm, peaceful even, but that was on the outside. Hiding under a wild mess of curls was easy.

"What's my fault?" Slash snorted.

"That they walked in on us. It's your fucking fault, Slash." Axl continued pointing a blaming finger in his direction, that's what he did the best.

"How is it _my_ fault?"

"'Cause you wanted to do it in Duff's room. 'Cause you were too lazy to find your key."

"Stop blaming everyone but yourself. First of all, it's no one's fault, alright? Second of all, even if it was somebody's fault, why the fuck does it matter? It's not like I forced you into anything," Slash snapped. "So, don't put your shit on me when you're insecure and ashamed of who you are."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," Axl hissed back, keeping his voice low so the entirety of the hotel wouldn't hear their argument. He grit his teeth, reminding Slash of an angry stray cat - ready for an attack.

"Oh, I don't? I'm pretty sure I know you're ashamed And that's why you act like a fucking kid all the time. But no one can say shit to you 'cause you act the way you do 'cause of your past, right?" ranted Slash with an accusing voice. "I'll tell you what, _Billy_ , you're so caught up with your childhood that you've let it define you."

"Fuck off. That shit has nothing to do with this - this situation. You had no fuckin' reason to bring that bullshit up. You say that I'm 'the complicated one' who always starts all our fights but you're no better. You're purposefully provoking me right now. But I'm 'the bad guy', I'm 'the bipolar lunatic who ruins everything'. You think I haven't heard what you say behind my back?"

"You know we all hate you, right?" It was a cheap shot, a petty insult, and the farthest thing from the truth. Slash's jaw tightened as Axl took a step backward, not expecting such cruelty from somebody he loved so deeply. "But it's your own fuckin' fault. You're a pain in the ass with your constant mood swings and temper tantrums. Trashing shit left and right, isolating yourself from the rest of us, and not showing up for shows and sending us on stage without a fucking singer."

"Fuck you too!" Tears were pricking at his eyes at Slash's outburst - he didn't cry in front of others, if he cried at all.

They went their separate ways, angry and even more upset. Axl wandered into his own room while Slash began chasing the bottom of another bottle.

— ✧ —

"Axl," a soft voice called out as Axl's eyes flickered open, clouded and fuzzy, flinching away as he made out a silhouette of a man in front of his bed. "Hey, it's just me, Axl. Just me."

Axl rubbed his weary eyes, focusing his vision on Slash kneeling in front of his bed with a frown on his face. Slash's fingers were gently brushing through his red hair in a gesture of affection but Axl jerked his head away with a scowl. He pulled the white duvet tighter against his body and peered at Slash through stuck-together eyelashes.

"How - How did you get in?" Axl croaked, no anger apparent in his voice. It was blank and when he raised on one elbow, the bright moonlight mixing with the vibrant city lights illuminating through the window brought out the tear stains on his pale cheeks - it broke Slash's heart.

"John helped me a bit." Slash shrugged his shoulders and set the spar key on the white sheets. "I'm sorry for waking you. I just - I feel so fucking bad that even Jack can't help me," said slash with a voice so soft, Axl could forgive him in a heartbeat.

"Slash, fuck o-"

"Please, listen what I have to say." His hand crept up Axl's leg and there was nothing sexual about it, it was a comforting touch but Axl swatted the hand away. "I'm sorry. You don't know how fucking sorry I am. I shouldn't of said those things 'cause they're not true. I was just angry and humiliated and I lashed it all out on you, 'm sorry."

Axl stared at him blankly.

"I crossed a line," he softly continued. "We don't hate you, I promise. You probably know that anyways. And you might be a little complicated at times and we've all been mad at you sometimes but there wouldn't be a fuckin' band without you. I don't know what came over me. I was just so pissed off and - and - and - fuck. I'm sorry. So fucking sorry."

Axl had never seen Slash as vulnerable. He had never seen slash anywhere close to tears nor ever heard him truly apologize - at least to him. They stared at each other in the dark as Slash's thick fingers played with the duvet, sitting on the floor and pleading for forgiveness. Axl didn't want to forgive so easily, but Slash's sincerity got the best of him.

"I just had to get that off my chest and say sorry. It couldn't wait 'till morning. I don't even expect you to say anything back," he whispered and he was already standing up to leave as Axl wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him back down.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For... saying that. For swallowing your pride. That's probably the first time you've ever apologized to me, and if you wouldn't have, we'd be scratching each other's eyes out at the next gig." Slash chuckled in response and buried his face in Axl's shoulder as they tightly embraced each other.

"So, where were we about-" Slash glanced at the time from the clock on the nightstand. "-four hours ago before we got rudely interrupted?"

"Well, I dunno. Show me." Axl smirk and pulled Slash's head up by his hair to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.


End file.
